


Non Omnis Moriar

by Teapot_Tempus



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Secret Crush, Slow Build, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 20,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6560038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teapot_Tempus/pseuds/Teapot_Tempus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Blue film, if you will.<br/>Everyone wants Ronan.<br/>Maybe everyone wants Blue.<br/>It's hard to tell sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prom predictions

"You," Orla sighed as she folded her impossibly long legs into a chair next to Blue at the kitchen table, "need to go to the prom."  

The prom wasn't something Blue had spent much time contemplating. Her focus right now was Algebra homework, with the rest spent chasing sleeping European royalty and not kissing Richard Campbell Gansey III.

Mostly, not kissing Richard Campbell Gansey III.

Blue eyed Orla surreptitiously over the math textbook.

Her cousin was the opposite of Blue in every way. Orla was tall. Blue short.

Orla was friends with everyone. Blue had only her best friends. Her heart did not have room for "acquaintances."

Orla's time in high school had been focused on so-called “milestones” and boys and drama and drama with boys. The only difference in her life now was that the high school milestones were past. So, lately, she had been focused on Blue's milestones.

"Dances are just another way the patriarchy distracts young women from focusing on the fight," Blue said, though without much fight in her voice.

"I'm giving you a lifeline, and you are happier to drown," Orla said, looking her cousin in the eyes for a spare second. "I just want you to be ... "

Blue couldn't let Orla finish. With the same Henrietta drawl, she took Orla's words and spat them back. "I just want you to be normal or girly or ... ."

"I just want you to be  … to be ... ." Getting louder with each word, Blue couldn't see straight. She couldn't breathe.

She slammed her Algebra book shut and stormed out of the kitchen — or did the best she could to storm while not tripping over a cluster of little cousins in the doorway.

*****

"How dare she, Gansey?" Blue asked by way of greeting as she climbed in the Pig 10 minutes later. "Really?"

Blue angry was a sight to behold. (Of course, Blue any day was a sight he loved to behold. He didn't let his thoughts linger on that word, "love," no matter how many times it creeped into thoughts about the intriguing girl next to him.)

"Are. You. Even. Listening?" She said, her voice rising in pitch a little with each word.

"Sorry, Jane. You were saying ... something about the patriarchy?"

Gansey knew he sounded too consoling, too old-money, etiquette lessons obliging. It was the only tone he could conjure up that wouldn't give away how his heart soared — and ached — when she was near.

She exhaled in frustration and moved to change the radio.

Without thinking, he lifted his hand off the gear shift and ran a knuckle over the back of her hand, very slowly, up her arm, dropping away when he reached her elbow. They both watched the motion. Neither said a word about it, but Gansey was pretty sure he saw Blue shudder a tiny bit out of the corner of his eye.

Gansey felt alive.

Turning to some public radio show about ecology or gardening or both, she asked: "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Church."

"CHURCH!" Blue repeated back, much too loud.

For her, Church with a capital “C” was enemy headquarters. Too many of the kids at school who didn't understand her unique ragtag blended family of strong, female psychics had invoked the C-word while professing that they were trying to save her soul.

"Blue, relax." Gansey rarely used her given name, so she tried not to be angry that he was trying to pacify her.

"Ronan found some books in the library at St. Agnes that actually talk about ley lines in Henrietta."

Sneaking a glance at her face, her face held a look of pure astonishment. She wasn't sure whether she was more shocked by Ronan doing more at church than social time with his family or the fact that St. Agnes had been harboring her kind of books.

Or Gansey's kind. Or their kind. Together. She was done for.

She noticed his gaze and stuck out her tongue.

He relaxed and rewarded her with an honest laugh. Sometimes he wondered if Ronan had gone to bed one night with the goal of dreaming up the perfect girl for him — his true and perfect love — and brought Blue back with him in the morning.

Gansey turned into the parking lot of St. Agnes, half wishing they could just keep driving.

After a beat, Blue raised her hand and ran her knuckle along the back of his hand and up, up, up his arm.

Her touch was electrifying. Knowing that they might get caught made Gansey feel reckless and young. He parked the car and turned toward her, smiling.

Blue, though, was already out of the car, squaring her shoulders to enter the belly of the beast. Halfway to the front entrance, she heard a familiar voice yell as it rounded the corner, "Over here, Homunculus!"

*****

Gansey fell into step and they walked in the building in companionable silence.

They entered a dark warren of church offices with open doors, and Ronan took off down a hall so narrow, it could only be redeemed by calling it "historical."

Gansey and Blue looked at each other. He held out his arm and practically curtsied to signify "Ladies first."

She thought about rejecting his chivalry, until her would-be knight raised one side of his mouth in a smile.

They had developed a shorthand for their no-kissing dance. Gansey was saying, "I have an idea about me and you — and you are going to like it."

She raised an eyebrow to reply, "I better." And took a step forward.

His hands were instantly on her. He massaged her shoulders and started to work his way down her back. His hands smoothed along her sides, a tactile way of saying: “You have curves — and I like them."

The rules of their little game were simple.

First, no kissing.

Last, don't get caught by the others.

Truth be told, their friends tolerated the longing glances and grins — too many fucking smiles, Ronan said — because they all knew about the curse, and the furtive approach to dating saved everyone from the awkwardness of PDA.

Blue stopped five feet away from the door Ronan was fighting to unlock.

Had they been anywhere but church, Blue suspected brute force would have been the key of choice.

Gansey stopped less than a hair's breadth behind her. The hands on her ribs started to move forward, sliding toward a base he had never reached on their nighttime drives.

Blue worked to school her face and remember to breathe. She leaned back and moved, cat-like, against him. She had no idea how her body knew what to do, but it seemed as natural as breathing.

From the sound of Gansey's breath hitching, he had not found it to be so natural.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” Ronan cursed as he tried to get the lock to turn.

Blue stepped forward and held out her hands for the keys. "Did you dream these up or something?"

"No, Midget, Mrs. Ramirez let me borrow them."

For a reason beyond Blue's comprehension, Mrs. Ramirez, the church's efficient middle-aged fixer, loved Ronan Lynch. He had at his fingertips all the charm of a cudgel, but it worked on Senorita Ramirez.

The first key Blue tried didn't fit the lock.

The second key slid home, but it would not turn.

Blue sighed as she tried the third key. Success.

Ronan bodily moved her aside so he could enter first and flip on the light.

The room had floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves, thin rust-colored carpet with strings snaking loose at the seams and avocado green plastic chairs seemingly everywhere.

The room smelled like old books — which is to say it smelled like a major component of eau de Gansey — so Blue inhaled as deeply as possible.

"Are you having an asthma attack?" Ronan asked, tilting his head as he looked at her. "I can't dream up an inhaler or whatever the fuck. Lynch Pharmacy is closed."

Before Blue had a chance to offer an appropriate retort or hand signal or swift kick to the junk, Gansey stepped between them, guiding Ronan away with a gentle touch on his shoulder.

"Where are these books now, Ronan?"

They walked to a glass-fronted bookcase in the corner. It, too, was locked. Ronan flipped through the key ring key by key in a rare bit of showmanship until he found the correct one.

Opening the door reverently, Gansey reached for a book, eyebrows raised at Ronan to confirm his choice was correct.

"Enough foreplay, Gansey," Ronan huffed, and grabbed as many books as he could.

Without turning, he held his arm out for Blue to take them. She paused for a moment, appreciating the cords of his muscles as they wound around his long, pale arm.

She stepped forward before he could catch her looking. This was Ronan. Her archenemy. Her nemesis. Arch nemesis.

Turning toward a study carrel, she carefully set the books down.

This was Gansey's fault. That was the only explanation. He kept her on edge all the time.

Her teenage hormones were raging, and she couldn't even kiss the boy she liked.


	2. Amare Genus Mortem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more complicated.

Gansey grabbed some books and sat down in the next carrel. Ronan grabbed a chair and planted it between them — as if his job was to oversee research.

Blue put aside her annoyance and started her work. The book on top was small and brown, with the title worn off the side. The nameplate inside said "Herbal Receipts for Healthy Families."

Blue set it aside. She got enough tea made from shrubbery at her house. She wasn't sure why the church would hide it away, and before she let herself feel judged unfairly by the book, she turned back to the pile.

The next book was in pristine condition. She looked at to spine — "Amare Genus Mortem"

"Your church doesn't like families, doesn't it?" 

Ronan grabbed the book without comment. "You don't speak Latin. How do you know what it it's about?"

Blue rolled her eyes and didn't find herself satisfied. So she punched his arm.

"Gansey, your pet Chihuahua needs a time out."

He was too engrossed in a book to referee. 

Blue turned back to the stack and looked at the next book.

Blue learned about local family histories and odd customs of early residents but not much else. She was beginning to think the books were locked up for their rarity, not their contents. 

Gansey had made his way through half as many books but had the same level of success.

Ronan, on the other hand, was still reading the first book he had taken from Blue.

He didn't look like himself, curled in on the book, eyebrows raised in an expression of something. Shock, maybe?

"Did you find something?" Gansey asked without looking over.

"Just Old Latin." Ronan said as he stormed back to the glass-fronted bookcase and mindlessly looked at the contents.

Gansey turned his attention back to his book. Blue, however, looked at Ronan. His normally tall, powerful form was slumped somehow.  He gestured her over with his head. 

She tried to move nonchalantly, closing her book and standing. She took her first step and Ronan jerked his head more violently. 

She scowled at his impatience but had to remain silent. She folded her arms when she got to his side, waiting for him to speak. 

"Meet me outside in 5. By the Pig. I don't know what excuse you'll use. Stop looking at me like that."

Blue, impressed by her ability to communicate without words, grabbed a random book and returned to the chairs. 

She paused behind Gansey, wanting to run her fingers through his hair and wrap her arms around him while he studied. 

But, she reminded herself, her rendezvous with Ronan must be about Gansey or the conversation wouldn't be in private. 

After a few minutes, Blue stretched and whispered, "Powder room" as much as for Gansey's delicate sensibilities as a way to sell her fib. 

She hurried toward the door, mind racing. 

"Blue," Ronan started once outside, letting Blue know something serious was afoot, "I think I found something."

She stepped closer, somehow, this seemed better said in a whisper. Whatever it was, it needed to be treated with care. 

Ronan placed his large hand on Blue's shoulder, and she was surprised at how warm he was. 

"I think this book is about Gansey. Or Glendower — or both. Fuck, I don't know," he trailed off. 

"Show me, Ronan. Don't start in about Latin."

"Is something going to happen to Gansey? Is there some psychic bullshit you and Adam and the witches of Fox Way haven't told me? Don't fuck with me, Blue. Tell me."

She licked her lips and swallowed. Ronan leaned over her menacingly and gave her a look that sent lesser mortals running for cover. Not one to be cowed, she stood taller. Or at least as tall as she could, which was barely up to Ronan's shoulder.

"If I tell you, you will not tell Gansey. No negotiations. None."

He leaned in further, trying again to overpower her senses. He didn't realize that he was succeeding. All she could see were his blue eyes and smell his sweet woodsy scent and feel the feather-soft breeze of his breath. 

Blue closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. She couldn't look at him when she destroyed him. Even he didn't deserve that. 

She tightened her hands into fists, then stretched her fingers wide while she tried to decide how to deliver the news that his best friend had weeks to live, and that she was probably going to be the one who killed him. 

Ronan raised his arms and placed his hands with surprising gentleness and unsurprising firmness on either side of her face. 

"Tell me," his voice faltered. 

"Jane! Ronan! I found something!"

Gansey's voice drifted to them around the corner. He was coming their way. 

Ronan tilted his hands back, forcing Blue's gaze to meet his. He clenched his jaw let a long breath out through his nose. "Later. This isn't over."

Blue nodded almost imperceptibly, but Ronan saw. He smoothed one thumb along her cheekbone, wiping away a tear that had just started to fall. 

He stepped back, and she did the same.

"There you two are. You'll never believe what I found," Gansey said, not questioning why he had found them together nor why they were quiet. He was used to his research stamina outlasting everyone else's. 

Blue worried for a moment he had found the book that caused Ronan such consternation and, speaking Latin, had read the same passage. 

She sucked in a breath and waited for the worst. 

"It's the story of the uprising, and it doesn't end in England. Of course, Henrietta isn't named, but this book — translating it from Welsh — is going to take me so much time."

Blue couldn't believe he sounded so excited about that prospect. Of course, he didn't know those hours, days, weeks were going to be his last.

Gansey looked at his junior CEO watch. "So when is Adam done at the garage? I could eat a whole Nino's pizza by myself."


	3. "First, Latin"

The Welsh book dominated conversation for the rest of the afternoon. Gansey had not let up on paying silent attention to Blue, but she felt a slight reprieve from her hormones. Instead of enjoying herself, she tried to work out what to say to Ronan and pay nominal attention to her friends. 

She and Ronan didn't bother with a staring contest. It wasn't for lack of trying on his part. Adam seemed to notice and caught Blue's eyes across the table.

“Is everything OK?” 

“Not here,” she communicated by dropping her gaze to her empty plate. 

Cialina brought the check and dropped it on the table dismissively as she had done ever since Blue became friends with her boys. Blue felt torn between the smugness she felt at having something the very popular girl wanted and embarrassment for giving into such Orla-like feelings.

In the end, it was a wash, because Gansey was over generous with the tip whether the waitress was Blue or someone else. 

The others left the restaurant while Blue went to check her work schedule for the week.  Cialina was sitting on stack of palettes looking at her phone. As a member of Nino's extended family, she had freedoms others didn't.  

"Bitch," she muttered as Blue walked in.

Blue looked around — half to make sure the insult was directed at her and half to make sure she could respond and keep her job.

"Cunt," she replied tracing her finger over the schedule to see if Cialina had asked for another Friday night off. 

"They're just using you, and you can't see it."

"Maybe I'm using them."

Cialina scoffed and didn't look up from her phone. "You pick the wrong ones. I guess you'll get around to the tattooed one when the pretty one realizes he needs a real woman or man — not a little boy."

Cialina emphasized her words by looking up and down Blue dismissively, shaking her head. 

The sting of those words — and what felt like the truth of them — hurt more than Blue could admit. She felt about two inches tall. 

What would any of the boys ever see in her? Especially Gansey. His life would have held a future of models or doctors who put themselves through med school by modeling. Sucking in a breath, she walked outside. 

"Jane!" Gansey said brightly as she exited. All of her boys were there, waiting for her. She felt a little better, but doubt remained strong. 

"I'm walking home," she said, starting off in the direction of Fox Way.

Gansey couldn't follow her, and she knew it. 

*****

Gansey and Ronan drove back to Monmouth Manufacturing in their separate cars. Adam had climbed in with Ronan and said, "You'll bring me back later. First, Latin."

Gansey dove into his translating, and Adam followed Ronan to his bedroom and closed the door. 

"What the hell, Ronan? Why are you and Blue fighting now? Can't you get along with any of your friends for more than five seconds?"

"Do your Latin or leave me the fuck alone. Or both. Or go somewhere else to obsess over Blue and her precious sensibilities."

"Fine," Adam said, pulling his homework out and sitting on Ronan's bed. Chainsaw flew over to explore Adam's bag, marching away disappointed when she didn't find any crumbs to eat or tissue to shred. 

Ronan flitted around his room with the same frenetic energy as his bird. He began digging in his dresser, while answering Adam's questions.

Adam couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy that Ronan learned Latin from his dreams and his father. The lessons Adam learned in his double-wide would probably never count for anything.

Ronan dug something out of his closet and threw it on. 

"What are you wearing?" 

"Stop staring," Ronan said and started out the door. "I know I look good. You about done, Parrish? I've got shit to do."

Adam was, in truth, just about done. He started packing up his stuff and couldn't help peeking into Ronan's closet to see what else might be lurking there. 


	4. Persephone's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orla brings up prom, again.

When Blue left the boys she immediately started sulking.  She sulked as she walked. She sulked as she opened the front door. She sulked as she raised her foot, planning to climb the stairs and throw herself — sulkily — on her bed.

"Chickadee!" Calla called.

"Not now, Calla. My soul is already crushed."

"Don't give me that millennial horseshit and get in here."

Blue found Calla sitting on the floor on a purple mat. She pointed to the corner, and Blue grabbed another.

Calla started her yoga and Blue followed along, sulking. 

Just after reaching downward facing dog, Calla said, "I have something for you ... from Persephone. Oh God, is your mother going to kill me. You. Both of us."

Blue heard little after that name. She rocked back and sat on her knees in that way that is only comfortable for tiny young women. "Well?"

She didn't have the energy for politeness. And she knew Calla didn't care.

"She gave it to me a few weeks before," and Blue could hear the sadness in Calla's usual steely voice. "I only know to give it to you. She didn't give me any other instructions."

With that, Calla laughed at something only she understood. She handed over a paper bag.

Blue began to open it, but Calla stopped her. "Upstairs. Not a word to Maura, I guess."

An hour later, she sat, legs akimbo, on her bed staring at what had been in the bag. She remembered racing up the stairs, and opening the bag reverently. This was something left by Persephone before she died.

Then she remembered sitting on her bed trying to understand the gift. She vaguely remembered the shadows spreading their way across her walls as the sun set, but didn't realize she was sitting in the dark until her door opened without courtesy of a knock. 

"Blue, one of your boys is ... " Orla started in. Then, she stepped in the room and closed the door behind her in a huff. "Have you been in my room?"

"What? Why? Oh," Blue realized too late that her cousin noticed the giant box of condoms sitting in front of her. 

"Give me those and stop going through my things," Orla snapped, reaching for the box.

"They're mine. Shush, Orla. Listen."

Orla halted her strangled noise of protest and sat down to hear the story of Persephone's gift.

After a heartbeat, she said, "Like I said. Prom."

Blue rolled her eyes, sighed and hid the box under her bed in one fluid movement. "What did you say when you came in here?"

Orla smirked, "One of your boyfriends is downstairs."

Blue didn't remember hearing the Camaro pull up, but she had been pretty zoned out. "I guess Gansey wonders why I didn't let him drive me home," she said and started to walk to the door. 

"Not that one."

Blue braced herself for an awkward conversation with Adam about the afternoon, but the phone/sewing/cat room was empty. She checked the kitchen. Empty.


	5. Until she saw nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue finds out what the book says ...

She opened the door to find a tall, handsome boy wearing a cardigan with suede patches on the elbows, a band T-shirt, jeans and motorcycle boots.

"Ronan?" Blue asked, confused by the lack of leather and tank.

"Get in. We need to talk."

The night had turned chilly, and Blue hadn't changed from the peasant top/skirt made from a sweater combo she wore earlier. "Let me get my jacket."

"No need. Some cars have heat. That works," Ronan said as he opened the door. The move when done by him was more of a mandate than act of chivalry. 

She stepped into a pair of flip flops on her porch and walked to the car, her arms wrapped tight against her sides as much for warmth as nervousness. 

Ronan closed the door, and walked to his side. Blue felt dread and something unnamed creep up her spine. 

The car dipped as Ronan got in. He started the engine, turned on the heat and heated seats and drove away without a word. Blue knew that silence was one of his most reliable weapons. She decided to let it pass. It gave her time to think, though time didn't seem to be providing her any answers. 

The BMW stopped in the parking lot of the all night truck stop/all-night diner. Blue started to get out, Ronan grabbed her arm, not rough, just sure. 

"Stay. We're here so no one bothers us in the car. This isn't a conversation for anyone outside."

She started in the churchyard nearly a year before. 

"And I believe you have something to tell me," she said when she finished. 

Ronan had been silent, looking out the front window. Blue wasn't sure he heard anything after she mentioned St. Mark's Eve.

He reached into the backseat and brought up the book from the church. "This book talks about Gansey, I think. I don't know. It's fucking from the 1600s." 

He turned his body sideways in his seat, resting his face against the headrest. Blue realized she mirrored his posture.

"Tell me what it says."

So he did. 

The story is about a prince searching for a sleeping king, surrounded by a magician and a dreamer and a ghost and a mirror. The prince's quest becomes threatened by death when he falls in love. He loves the mirror, surely signifying to all others looking at the supposedly apocryphal story that vanity can derail the noblest of pursuits. 

But that's not what Ronan saw. He saw Gansey, the prince. Adam, the magician. Ronan, the dreamer. Noah, the ghost. Blue — finally — the mirror. 

He looked away, making Blue curious. "Everything. Tell me everything."

"The one way for the prince to avoid death is for," Ronan swallowed. "Is for the mirror to die."

A weight pressed down on her chest. She couldn’t get her breath. Darkness started moving in on her until all she saw was a pinprick. Until she saw nothing.

 


	6. Blue's driving lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much happens, but it's a little hazy.

The first sounds she heard were the rustling of paper. Then, "Fuck, shit, piece of shit."

The stream of consciousness cursing was familiar enough, but she was now covered be the softest blanket she had ever felt.

She opened her eyes a bit to see Ronan fighting to open a package of ketchup for what appeared to be the world's biggest order of French fries. She pushed the sweater to her lap.

"Give it."

He turned it over and snuck a look at her out from under his lashes. "I got you a milkshake. That's the closest thing this place has to yogurt. Strawberry."

She wasn't sure whether to find that was endearing or he was giving her his idea of a last meal. She let it go, feeling too raw for a fight. She squeezed the ketchup on the tray and dropped the packet in the bag. "What time is it?"

"You were out for a while. I was going to drink the shake if you fell into some magical fucking dream fucking mirror sleep."

She stretched and put the cardigan on properly. The arms were a silly length on her, but that somehow fit the day.

She took a deep breath in and let it out. She picked up the shake, and it felt off.

"Ronan, did you start drinking this already?"

"One, maybe. Two, growing boy. Three, I didn't want any bullshit" and here he did his best Blue impersonation, accent and all, "I can pay for my own way, even though women make 78 cents on the dollar compared to men."

She smiled and took a drink, satisfied that Ronan had been listening to her.

She put away what he had said earlier until she could think about it in private. She was used to life and death, but it had never involved her death before.

They started chatting about normal things, which wasn't normal for them. Blue asked about the sweater.

It had belonged to Niall Lynch. Ronan found it in the car after his dad was murdered. The sweater was cashmere soft but looked like itchy, workaday Irish fishermen’s wear.

"But metaphors can go fuck themselves," he said.

He then filled in the gaps about Monmouth after pizza.

When Ronan left, Gansey was on his bed poring over the Welsh text. Noah was playing pool — or whatever you called it when you fell through the table on half the shots. Ronan had dropped Adam off at his car.

Blue finished her shake with the flourish of a loud noise, and Ronan looked pleased. He took the cup, gathered his trash and took it to the garbage. Blue had a feeling the Mother Hen routine wouldn't last, but she was going to enjoy it while she could. She was warm. She was full, and tomorrow and it's trouble could wait.

Ronan turned away from Henrietta instead of back toward town. Blue just didn't care. She wondered if the street racing had survived Kavinsky. She wondered if she was running away from home, or being kidnapped. And she still didn't care.

They reached the unopened lanes of new highway and drove around the barrier. The car stopped, and Ronan got out, walked to her side and yanked the door open.

"Gansey and Noah said you can't drive for shit. Time to fix that."

Blue felt herself shrink down into the warmth of the sweater and heated seat. She didn't really want to have yet another "teacher" critiquing her lack of driving skills.

Ronan crouched down and leaned forward. Blue braced herself for his version of a pep talk.

Instead, he kept leaning forward until he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. After the absurdity of the day, being topsy-turvy across Ronan's back made Blue laugh uproariously.

He stalked to the other side of the car and set her down. "You're doing this. Get in."

She started to make a break for it. An arm shot out and blocked her path.

"They're shit teachers. Well, maybe not Calla, but I don't think you can teach someone to make things operate on pure hate."

"I taught Adam, and he hasn't put his POS out of its misery yet by killing the transmission. Yet. Get. In."

Blue sat down behind the wheel, and immediately, the seat started to move forward and the steering wheel started to lower on their own. She looked at Ronan curiously.

"Dream car. Fucking dream car, man." He closed the door and walked to the other side.

Blue braced herself. "I crash it. You kill me. Gansey lives. Win. Win. Win."

"Stop stalling. Noah is the only one I would kill, and he's already fucking dead."

Blue put her foot on the accelerator and the clutch. She talked herself through the steps of shifting into first. The car took off somewhat smoothly and reached and remained at the leisurely pace of ... 15 miles per hour.

"What the holy fuck? Are there small children and goddamn puppies in our path I can't see?"

Blue slammed on the brakes and turned. This felt like more sure ground than she'd been on in several hours. Her reply began with how she was being forced to drive against her will, took a side tour through his history crashing cars and ended with a suggestion of where he could put the gear shift.

Ronan looked pleased.

Blue was angrier.

"Now," Ronan said, "drive."

Blue sighed and skipped the mental checklist, she brazenly took off. The speedometer climbed and climbed.

"Shift, Maggot," Ronan instructed. The car jerked through the gear change but was forgiving. The speedometer leveled off at 40 and Ronan had her stop  and told her to start over.

She hesitated. He smacked her arm, and not lightly.

"You aren't supposed to hit girls, you Neanderthal!"

"Really? Double standard. Maybe you're a bad feminist. I would have hit Gansey or Parrish."

Blue felt the anger rise again. She didn't stop to analyze — she just took off. When the car neared the next gear, Ronan put one hand on her thigh and one hand on the gear shift. He moved them for her and she felt the difference — the absence of a jerk or pull, as she had every other time.

She got to the end of the stretch of road and turned around. Ronan's hands remained on her hand and leg, heavy, but loose. She took off.

The speedometer was climbing, climbing, and she could tell she had shifted out of first well because his hands remained passive. She got to fourth and he didn't leave things to chance, taking over.

Turn around. Repeat.

Turn around. Repeat.

She started again, and Ronan leaned to whisper in her ear, "Close your eyes."

And she did.

The BMW became something she felt with her whole body, freed from her mind. And it was glorious. She knew when to shift because she could feel it. It wasn't a step by step careful sequence of events, it was jazz.

The day came crashing in on her, and she wasn't phased. She could do what was needed.

Ronan tightened his hands on her but didn't take control. After a while, he said, "Stop."

And she didn't.

Sure, she opened her eyes and brought the car to a standstill, but she took the hand that was under Ronan's and turned it palm up, lacing their fingers together. He squeezed back, just until it hurt.

The exact logistics of the next few moments were, truth be told, a bit hazy to both of them, even later.  Blue seemed to come to sitting straddled over Ronan's hips, feeling his hands gripped tight on her ass and feeling and seeing him take her left nipple between his teeth. Her hands, she realized were on the button of his jeans.

She realized what made her come around. The passenger seat was leaning back and despite the firm hands on her, she had lost her balance a little.

"Ronan," she said quietly, her voice a little scratchy.

His grip relaxed. He placed a gentle kiss on her breast and looked up at her. His stubble tickled a little.

To her surprise, he didn't throw her aside or cover her up. She didn't move, either. She sat with her shirt and his sweater and her bra draped off her shoulders. Her hands came to rest on his very flat stomach.

She was pretty sure that the feral look in his eyes merely reflected her own, or the other way around.

She felt powerful and wanton and alive.

He leaned back into the fully reclined seat, he shifted his weight. The action moved him against her center. He was as affected as her, apparently.

"Fucking dream car."

Then he chuckled at his joke.


	7. God, that was hot

After Ronan dropped him off, Adam had driven his tricolor car of dubious parentage to his home at St. Agnes. He hadn't volunteered to do any research. He was too busy already with school and work. 

Unlike Gansey, he needed sleep. Unlike Ronan, he cared about his grades.

He sat down to study for a calculus test. Next was English, then world history. His head felt heavy and he dozed off.

In his dream, he was in Cabeswater, which wasn't unusual. He walked around and spoke to the trees.

The sun set in the forest and Adam had a sense he was not alone. He had met Ronan in this dream space before, so he wasn't surprised to see the charcoal gray BMW across an open field.

He expected to see Ronan emerge from the driver side, imperious and untouchable. Ronan looked like he belonged in Cabeswater. The forest was a part of them both, but Ronan was a part of Cabeswater in a way Adam could never be.

The car remained still, so Adam walked closer. He raised his hand to knock on the tinted passenger window, but stopped when the interior came into view. Ronan was in the passenger seat. After a few moments, he realized Ronan was kissing the driver, and Adam felt a little sick. 

He froze.

He couldn't look away. The best Adam could hope for was to remain unseen. As focused as Ronan was on what he was doing, Adam thought that might be possible. 

For Adam, the scene played out in slow motion. 

He watched as each kiss, each caress grew more intense. Ronan wasn't wearing the silly sweater he had worn earlier. Adam started to believe this wasn't a Cabeswater meeting but his subconscious messing with him.

Ronan started to reach further toward the driver's seat. Adam didn't want to think about what his hands were doing. 

Ronan moved, back, relaxing into his chair, and Adam thought he had his reprieve. Instead, the driver climbed into his lap.

At first, all Adam saw was a petite hand grabbing Ronan's shoulder for purchase, and this was confusing in a way he didn't have time to contemplate, because the driver moved to straddle Ronan's hips without breaking a kiss.

Blue. 

It was Blue.

Her hands were roaming over Ronan's chest and shoulders while he moved from kissing her lips to kissing her cheek, then her ear, moving down her neck.

She yielded to the attention in a way Adam didn't think possible, that she let Ronan kiss her, but the interaction still had some of their usual fight to it. She was rough with him and he returned the favor. 

Ronan kissed her on the lips again, and cupped her face in his hands. He ran his hands through her hair none too gently, and a few of her barrettes flew off. She looked wild and beautiful.. 

Instead, Ronan ran his hands down Blue's shoulders roughly until the sweater, her peasant top and lacy red bra were all draped around her. 

Ronan's hands disappeared under her skirt as he started to pepper her breasts with kisses, and Adam was sure he heard Blue moan with pleasure.

Ronan bit her nipple, and she cried out. 

Adam startled awake at his desk, with evidence he had been dreaming of the impossible. He took himself to hand and thought about two things at once:

First, Why would my dream self create that  scenario of all the possibilities? 

Second, God, that was hot.


	8. I thought you were ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Ronan return to reality.

Blue started to set her clothes to rights. Ronan watched patiently, tracing circles on her thighs with his thumbs.

Somehow, this felt like a slow re-entry into reality.

A thought terrified Blue, "Oh God, did I kiss you?"

"Am I dead?" None of this phased him. As her mind geared up, he remained pacific.

"We're we going to?"

"What if I did kill you?"

"I thought you were ... "

She let that sentence die rather than finish. Maybe some things weren't made better through talking it out.

He patted her right thigh and opened the car door. "Let me take you home."

He helped her stand and extricated himself from the seat. She climbed back in and pulled the sweater around her knees.

They drove to Blue's house in relative silence, neither wanting to break the calm mood they had settled into.

Ronan drove up to a house that seemed to be asleep. Blue smacked his arm, and climbed out quickly. She heard his laugh as his hand hit the seat where she had been.

He started to take off. "Ronan, your sweater," Blue said as she reluctantly began to remove it.

"I'll get it the next time we, um, drive."

She stood on the sidewalk watching as he drove away. She stood there while goosebumps started forming on her legs from the cold. She stood there until she heard the front door open and the whispered words, "Get in here Dummy!"

And the trance was broken.


	9. Blue was a PJs kind of girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gansey flirts. Blue flirts back.

Orla grabbed Blue's hand and dragged her upstairs. She looked up and down the hallway before closing them in Blue's room.

"Do you know what time it is?"

In fact, Blue had no idea. She never thought to check, either.

"Four. It's four a.m. So, tell me everything."

If Blue was lucky, she would be able to take a nap before school. She apologized and bundled Orla out of her room. "Later. Now, sleep."

She wasn't sure if she was telling her cousin anything until she could understand it herself, but it bought her temporary peace.

She placed the sweater in a half-folded pile at the foot of her bed and stripped to her underwear. She was definitely a PJs kind of girl, but something about this felt adventurous, and right.

She got out of bed and locked her door for good measure.

She fell asleep at once.

She awoke to the sound of someone banging on her door mercilessly at 6. She wrapped the sweater around herself tightly and opened the door a bit to remind Orla that she had another hour before she had to get up for school.

Instead, Calla's bright face greeted her, and over Calla's shoulder, in his school uniform and a alert smile, stood Gansey.

Blue shut the door quickly and scrambled to find something to wear. She settled on a plaid dress she had made over from a shirt of Orla's. She shoved the sweater in her closet.

She opened the door again.

"He brought cronuts," Calla said by way of greeting. "I suppose I am bribable. Remember that, Chickadee."

"Yes, bribable. Thanks," Blue said as she turned Calla around toward the stairs.

"Good morning, Jane," Gansey began, his smile and mood were so bright that she could tell he was nervous. That made her heart hurt.

She ushered him into her room and showed him a seat on the bed. She stood in front of him. They were almost eye to eye. Almost. She liked feeling taller, even if it was momentary.

"How's the translating?" 

"Fine, I guess. I ordered a few more reference books, so I'm stalled until they get here," he reached out for her hands.

This felt comfortable and safe. 

"Is everything OK? You left last night in a bit of a huff." With this he started tracing circles over her palms.

"Cialina was, well, Cialina. And I let it get to me."

"The other waitress? Because she was rude?"

"No, it doesn't matter. It's over."

Blue wasn't the calculating sort, but she knew better than to mention driving lessons. They weren't trying to hurt Gansey. They were trying to save him. She let out a tired sigh.

Gansey put his hands on her waist and walked her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her back and held her close for a few heartbeats.

She took the comfort easily, but realized he had his face in her chest and a very large grin on his face. Win, win, apparently.

She giggled, which he interpreted correctly. "I'm caught, aren't I?"

"It's OK, I like you."

She had meant to say, "I like it," but misspoke.

Gansey turned to face her. She felt his chin in her breastbone. "I like you, too."

She patted his back twice, and he let go. They had this shorthand to block near-kisses. 

"Jane," Gansey said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Is it just you who skips a bra on Mondays or is it something all the co-eds do at public school?"

He knew she had five seconds to get dressed. And he felt a lurch in his gut when she had opened the door the first time. All he saw was her grumpy cute look and her naked legs. He couldn't see what she was wearing, but he knew it wasn't much.

"Don't you have to go to school?"

"I was going to see if I could give you a ride, first." He walked over and closed her door. "But I think you have to change."

She laughed nervously.

He laughed nervously.

She stayed where she was and undid the top button of her shirt dress. Then the second one.  

Gansey stayed where he was and watched, transfixed. 

She paused at the third button and asked him to hand her a bra from her dresser. He opened the top drawer and drew out the red lacy one she had worn the day before. 

"I think this one is my favorite." He tossed it to her.

Before she could take the thought further, she heard her name being called up the stairs. She sobered up, opened the door and yelled, "I will be right down."

She shoved Gansey out the door. "Sorry. Psychics, you know."


	10. Stop staring, Coca-Cola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam finds what could be evidence he wasn't just dreaming.

Adam overslept, so Ronan was already downstairs waiting when Adam emerged from his apartment.

As the walked up to the BMW, he remembered his dream from the night before.

He was a little embarrassed and paused.

"Get in shithead," Ronan said as the passenger window rolled down.

"Morning, Sunshine," Adam replied as he climbed in. "Did you finish your homework?"

Adam asked the question knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer, and they were off to their usual battle.

Adam set aside his feelings about that dream, using a skill set he had honed growing up in the home of Robert Parrish. Feelings, he learned young, were for punk-ass bitches.

Getting out at Aglionby, Adam bent down to grab his messenger bag. He noticed something small and incongruously hot pink next to it, half under the floor mat.

Adam thought about saying something, but chose instead to stash it in the side pocket of his bag.

"Latin?" Ronan asked more brightly than his usual tone.

"Latin," Adam agreed, shoving the barrette deeper in his bag.

*****

After school, the boys clambered into the house with their usual energy, but what they saw brought them up short.

Blue was doing yoga with Calla in the phone/sewing/cat room when the boys arrived that afternoon. Their miniature best friend was usually modest, to a fault. Today, though, she wore a loose trapeze shirt over a black bra and boy shorts. The position she was in meant the shirt was up near her head and Gansey and Adam saw more of her than before.

Ronan broke their reverie.

"Ha!" He said and walked in the room. He smacked Blue on her ass as he passed. She laughed and collapsed on her knees.

Gansey followed Ronan in and sat next him on the couch.

"Stop staring, Coca-Cola." This was Calla who hadn't broken her pose. "Your turn with the yoga comes soon enough."

Calla said "yoga," but Adam was pretty sure she didn't mean "yoga."

"What are we doing today?" Blue asked as she straightened her shirt over her knees.

"Barns. Books. Blah." Ronan explained.

"Let me change."

"No," the three boys answered in unison. Adam and Gansey shared a meaningful glance, both surprised at Ronan's joining in.

"You should see your faces." Ronan said.

Adam and Gansey shared another meaningful glance as if to say: "Is he mocking us?"

And in reply: "Yes, I believe he is."

Calla snorted. "Go change, Blue, or you may never get out of this house."


	11. Stop it, or I will make you suffer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barns. Books. Blah.  
> And Blue has a bony ass.

Blue came back downstairs wearing a loose, light sweater over her sports bra, shorts and combat boots, of course.

When they Ronan’s family home, he led them to a door at the back of one of the bigger barns that gave the land its name.

Adam followed along familiarly, leaving Blue and Gansey at the back. 

"I like the wardrobe, Jane. I'm not sure the others can handle it, though. I'm made of sterner stuff, you see."

Blue smiled at the boldness and elbowed him lightly. "We'll have to test that theory."

They reached what looked like an office and saw Ronan rifling through a desk, muttering about keys. Adam was in an office chair, spinning around.

"It almost seems like a crime to disturb them," she whispered conspiratorially. 

"Almost." 

"What are we doin' here, anyway?" Adam asked, without trying to flatten his accent or hide an indolent whine.  

"My dad had some Latin books. I forgot about them, until Matthew said something at lunch."

Ronan was so intent on his searching, no one dared ask another question. They, as was the usual course during visits at the Barns, were looking at each item in the room, seeing if it served its apparent purpose. 

Gansey found a stapler that sang an Irish folk tune. Adam noticed that every sheet of a notebook had the same words on it, "Niall hearts Aurora."

"Damnit, Gansey, get over here! Did you think this jaunty little fucking trip was about you nosing through Dad's stuff? Use your All-American muscles and help me get this door open."

Ronan had given up on finding a key. They pulled on the handle of a cabinet against the wall until finally the lock gave way. Inside were seveal large wooden crates, purportedly full of books. Ronan stopped anyone from opening a crate, arguing the old wood might not hold up to much repeated strain.

"I'll bring the Pig around; we'll take these back to Monmouth," Gansey said, wiping his All-American forehead. 

Ronan grabbed Adam by the hand and pulled him toward the crates. "Help, Einstein."

Blue held open doors while various combinations of the three boys carried crates. Only three would fit in the trunk. Adam and Gansey heaved the final crate into the backseat as the last of the sun's rays dipped behind the mountains to the west. 

"I'll drive," Ronan declared and went for the keys just as Gansey snatched them into a closed hand. 

"Sorry, Lynch, no can do. Also, someone will have to sit on someone's lap.” 

At once, the three passengers yelled "Shotgun!"

"Get over yourselves. Adam you have shotgun."

Ronan shot a glare at Gansey. Blue shot a glare at Gansey.

And Gansey figured  _ anything  _ was better than letting Ronan drive his car. 

Ronan climbed in the backseat, and Blue followed. She tried to get comfortable and wasn't very successful. 

Ronan's complaints about her "bony ass" and her fidgeting meant it was going to be a long trip. 

"Your ass is bony," she said and fidgeted more. Ronan grabbed her hips and stilled her.

"Stop it, or I will make you suffer," Ronan said, and Blue huffed.


	12. A position less G-rated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan sleeps like the dead, except for when he is pretending.

Gansey drove away from the Barns and started talking about his Welsh book. He asked Adam questions here and there. He occasionally met Blue's eye in the rearview and apologized with a raise of his eyebrows. 

She replied with a soft smile, bracing her hands on the back of the passenger seat. Adam tried to see her, but the angle was wrong on the side mirror.

She felt the hands on her hips again, and they shifted her into a position less G-rated. She worked to keep her face schooled. Her loose sweater had surely covered what had happened. And what was starting to happen. 

Ronan started moving her and moving against her. She started to feel, well, his reaction.

His hands relaxed, and she took up the languorous rhythm on her own. She felt her nipples get hard and the sensation of rubbing against the fabric covering them gave her goosebumps.

There was a titillating juxtaposition between barreling down the highway at 70 miles per hour and the unhurried, secret conversation they were having. 

She looked over her shoulder at Ronan and realized he was pretending to be asleep. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly open. Blue realized her mouth hung open, too. 

"He sleeps like the dead. He hasn't slept for a few days. This has been coming for a while."

Blue nodded dumbly at Gansey in the mirror, trying to keep her breathing under control as she felt her pulse race. 

The old country roads were dark and curvy, so she didn't need to worry about covering up what they were doing too much, until Ronan reached his hand around and touched her. Right there. 

She gasped.

And instantly faked a sneeze. 

In this, he moved too quickly, so she moved a hand off Adam’s chair, covering his hand with her own. 

She taught him a lesson about pace and pressure that she was learning at the same time. He was an excellent student.

They were near the edge of town, and if the tight coil in her stomach told her anything, she was near, too. 

She felt like the streetlights were exposing too much but she couldn't help herself. She stopped moving on him and made him focus just on her pleasure. They reached Monmouth and she felt herself let go. 

Gansey interpreted her long sigh wrong, and drove on. "We'll take you home, Jane. You look really tired all of a sudden."

She nodded and relaxed her weight on Ronan. He moved his hand to her back, tracing her spine lightly.

The caress helped ground her, and she realized his hands were tracing something specific. 

The letters came together in her mind. "Tomorrow," he wrote. "My turn."

They pulled up in front of Fox Way and Gansey yelled, "Ronan, wake up! Let Jane out."

She turned and smacked his leg. He returned the favor without opening her eyes. She laughed.  He smirked, but moved his leg.

Adam stepped out so Blue could exit the car. He looked Blue in the eyes as she passed and he was hit with a bolt of recognition.

Her hair was still in its strained ponytail, and her clothes were still on. But she looked the same as she had in his dream of Cabeswater.

He looked in at Ronan who simply raised his middle finger in salute.


	13. A tale of two Blues

Orla was hot on her heels as soon as she walked inside. Blue wanted to understand what was happening, but she was afraid of the answer.

"You're a hot mess, Blue." Her cousin had half a knowing smile on her face. "Get some rest now, I think."

Blue drew her eyebrows together, but didn't ask. Orla was a reliable psychic if you paid her or were her friend, and almost never if you were her cousin.

"Don't look at me like that," Orla said as she bundled Blue off to her room.

Blue thought she would be able to sleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but she was wrong. She had always been so sensible, she wondered if her conscience was roaring to life. But at her heart, she didn't feel guilty. She just felt like there were two Blues. There was the practical one who loved Gansey and was going to make the ultimate sacrifice for him. Then there was the other, who seemed determined to get in some adventure with a boy she would have sworn only liked boys until a day ago.

For their being best friends, Gansey and Ronan were so different. Gansey was comfortable and safe. He was the boy you brought home to Mom. He was beautiful — a statue of a Greek god come to life.

Ronan was risk. Danger — and excitement — in the form of a boy. He was handsome in a way that blended form with physique. He was a bundle of muscles and physicality, even in repose. 

She couldn't imagine Gansey risking anything as bold as accomplished in the back of the Pig. That train of thought put her back where she had been in the dark on the country road, her body simplified to a single thought.

She was restless. Her heart wanted Gansey and her body had a different desire. She got up from her bed and locked her door. Her brain found the compromise. 

In her fantasy, she was in Monmouth, and it was night. The light from the street lamp poured in through the large windows in streams. When Gansey walked up to her from the shadows, he appeared lit from behind, almost angelic. He kissed her hand. He let her it go with the same courtly grace. 

The real Blue went over the lessons she taught Ronan while letting her mind wander.

Then he stepped back and removed his horrible yellow polo shirt, revealing his sleek, muscular chest and abs. This Gansey stepped forward and kissed Blue hungrily, starting to unbutton her plaid dress. He was eager in his movements and fumbled a few times.

He moved the dress off her shoulders and it pooled on the floor.

He stepped back and appraised her. She tried not to fidget, and didn't succeed. She started to fold her arms over her chest.

Her confidence wasn't bullet-proof yet, even in her imagination.

A pair of hands reached around her and moved her hands back to her sides. "No, Maggot, don't hide, not from me," Ronan's voice whispered in her ear.

And that was enough. The calm that came along after that quickly turned into dreamless sleep.


	14. Noah weighs in, um, or out

Gansey and Adam carried the first crate into Monmouth. The books were heavy, but they were making a go of it. Ronan opened the door and followed them in. 

Noah was on the couch watching TV. He looked at Gansey. He looked at the crate. He looked at Adam and said nothing.

Ronan walked through the door and Noah said, "Oh, shit!" And disappeared.

"What did you do to Noah this time?" Adam asked.

"Fuck if I know. Who's helping me with the next crate?" Ronan was back out the door before the others could ask more questions.


	15. Half past never

Blue woke up the next morning and looked at the clock. She had just enough time to sneak in the shower before the morning crush began. She threw on a t shirt and opened her door.

Her cousin was leaning against the door frame filing her nails.

"Prom, Blue. You have to go. I keep seeing it. It's the only way." And she turned around saying, "You should believe me, I am the psychic one after all."

Blue went through the routine of a usual school day, focused on how she hoped the boys would visit Nino's while she had to work.

She noticed a flyer for prom hanging outside her algebra class and tore it down and shoved it deep in her backpack before anyone could catch her looking. Her hand hit something unfamiliar at the bottom of her bag. With a sense of increasing dread, she peeked in. There, with a hot orange Post-it that said "Enjoy! —XOXO" was the gift from Persephone. 

She zipped up her bag and got to her chair before anyone could associate wonder what was causing the blush that was creeping up her cheeks. 

T.J. walked in and sat at the desk in front of her. She instinctively held her notebook against herself to discourage vandalism.

"So, Blue," except the way he said it, the two words had about six syllables. "What about prom? What time do I pick you up?"

Blue wondered if Orla had put an idea in his head. Original thoughts weren't his strength.

"Half past never," Blue said and drew out her homework, hoping the conversation was over.

"You know you like me," he said with a laugh as he emphasized his football letter jacket by picking an invisible piece of lint off the shoulder.

Blue considered pointing out that she could never like someone who thought letter jackets were cool in an unironic way, but thought better of prolonging the interaction. She thought maybe she should talk to Orla to make sure her cousin wasn't trying to help.

Class started, giving Blue a good reason to ignore T.J.'s attempts to get her attention. A small pile of notes started to accumulate at her feet, because, really, he was that stupid. She put her feet over the pile the one time the teacher looked in that general direction, but she waited until class was over before shoveling them into her bag. 

The rest of the day was typical and she went straight to Nino's after school. She had been in the back when the boys arrived and took residence in their usual orange plastic booth. Blue was glad to see Noah was with them as she approached.

Noah, though, didn't seem to have the same feelings toward her.

"Oh, shit!" he said and blinked out of sight.

Blue raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"He did the same thing to Ronan last night." It was Adam who answered, and his eyes were darting between her and Ronan as he spoke.

"Maybe he was making room for your bony ass," Ronan said without looking up from his wrist bands. She kicked him lightly.

"Scoot," she said and shoved his hulking form aside. She sat down, looking around for a manager and whispered, "Orla is doubling down on this prom thing. She hasn't said what she sees, but she makes it seem important. Like ley line important."

"Can we trust her?" Gansey and the other boys had spent plenty of time fending off Orla's psychic visions. "When is it?"

"I don't know. A week from Friday."

Gansey looked defeated. "I have to go to D.C. for my grandma's birthday. It's a whole to-do and Helen isn't letting me escape. Adam?"

Blue was instantly angry at Gansey for handing her off like a thing, but realized it shouldn't be assumed they would go together. Adam begged off — he had to work at the trailer factory and couldn't get the day off.

"Maybe Noah? Does it count if your date is a ghost?" she wondered aloud.

"Hey! I'm right here!" Ronan protested.

The other three laughed, and Blue got up to return to waitressing. She heard Ronan's cursing as she walked away, thinking over prom with Ronan.

She delivered their pizza a few minutes later and steered the conversation away from school dances. "Did Ronan's dad's books have anything interesting to say?"

Gansey started in about how they were all the same except for one chapter. He drew a book from his bag and set it on the table. Blue had to stop herself from gasping. There, in all its glory was a copy of "Amare Genus Mortem."

"What's different?" She asked and idly picked up the book.

"The last chapter — it seems like no one could agree, or Ronan's dad or whoever, on how this thing is supposed to end," Adam offered. "The only common thread is a prince."

"Like a young Glendower?" she asked, hoping against hope the version at the church was not the only possibility. Some part of her felt frozen, though, sure that her death was foretold in the only real version of the book. She had spent so long searching for a loophole, she believed one just wasn't possible.

"I wish," Ronan said, without meeting her gaze.

Blue stopped by the table intermittently and the boys took turns sharing the chapters they had translated so far.

Adam and Ronan started toward the door, and Gansey stayed behind. He stuck around while she gathered up their plates.

"I'm sorry about prom. I'd invite you to the family party, but I don't see a need to torture you."

"And yet you wear those shoes," Blue said half-heartedly.

He smiled warmly. "You should go with Ronan. I would pay money to see that."

She hugged Gansey, right there in front of God and Nino's and everyone.

"We'll figure this out, Jane. Don't worry. Until then, you'll have Ronan."

"What grand adventure awaits you while I drown in iced tea and Beastie Boys?" she asked as she pulled away to meet his gaze.

"Latin, Welsh, the usual," Gansey replied as he returned his face to the polished mask he usually wore.


	16. Ronan, who never lies

At Monmouth awhile later, Ronan was sprawled across the couch while Gansey asked him questions to help with the Latin translation and Chainsaw hopped around on his chest. They were nearly through with one crate and there had yet to be a mention of a mirror or a dreamer. 

Ronan dug in a pocket and looked at his phone. Then, as Adam and Gansey watched, Ronan went to his room, placed Chainsaw in her cage, changed from one wife beater to another, sprayed cologne on his neck and grabbed his motorcycle jacket.

"Where are you going?" Adam asked, a tinge of nervousness in his voice. He knew Ronan hadn't raced since Kavinsky, but felt a twinge of anxiety about Ronan's plans.

Ronan looked annoyed, and deadpanned, "I'm going to go fuck Blue until she can't walk, would either of you like to join us?"

Gansey laughed.

Ronan blew them a kiss as he closed the door.

Adam's stomach did a flip.

"Gansey? Has it occurred to you that Ronan never lies?" Adam asked, afraid of the answer.

"Looks like he's trying to learn," Gansey said and went back to his work. 


	17. Ronan thinks Blue should cut a bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to the Barns, Ronan surprises Blue with his creativity.

Blue walked out of Nino's smelling like a deep dish pizza with extra garlic. She wasn't sure how she felt when she saw Ronan outside, but walked up to him, faking confidence.

A moment passed before either spoke.

"Driving lesson?" he asked as she said, "Where to?"

She got in the car, and it felt smaller than it had before. He got in and looked at her from head to toe very slowly.

"First, Barns."

"Are you going to teach me to drive around sleeping cows?"

"You'll see, Homunculus," as he pulled away from the parking lot, he rolled down his window and flipped off the restaurant. 

"What was that about?" Blue asked, half hoping he hadn't flipped off Donnie. Half hoping he did.

"Cialina walked outside. If I were you, I'd cut a bitch."

Blue laughed, relaxing a little. "I know why  _ I _ should cut a bitch, but why do  _ you _ think I should?"

"First, You have a switchblade. Second, I don't want to tell you." 

"First, lost it. Bad memory, Dude. Second, spill it."

As the car moved across the countryside, Ronan revealed that Cialina had been hitting on him since the boys started to go to Nino's. Blue wasn't surprised. But that night, Cialina had cornered him on his way back from the bathroom and offered to spend her break convincing him that she was better for him than Blue.

She felt angry and triumphant at the same time. She flirted with the unfamiliar feeling.

"What exactly did she say she would do?" Blue asked, looking out the window away from Ronan.

"Knees. It involved her being on her knees a lot," Ronan said, also not looking over at Blue.

"So, cleaning the floor? Scraping gum off the underside of tables? That sort of thing?" 

"I like clean tables," Ronan laughed in response. "Not a competition, Maggot."

"Why is it not a competition?" she asked in a huff. 

“You win. End of story.”

Blue wasn’t satisfied. "Let me win. Please?"

"Fuck, OK.”

He ran a hand over his head, stalling.

“But this is equal territory. I'm not a misogynist if I'm willing to reciprocate."

He snarled out the words, and Blue was left wondering at their truthfulness. She liked considering that possibility, though.

"Tell me how I would win," she said expectantly and primly (and ironically) crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. 

Ronan described in elaborate detail what Blue would be doing on her knees. 

The story was mesmerizing and revealing. He seldom spoke for very long, and certainly never seemed to have the enthusiasm for whimsy he was showing with these imaginings. 

As her pulse quickened, she reminded herself to take mental notes. 

They reached the Barns as Ronan finished his story with the words "all over the place."

"Is that all?" Blue asked and grabbed her bag as they got out of the car. He laughed mercilessly. 

"You won't be saying that later," he replied and led the way into the comfortable house.


	18. So that left Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan has an existential exploration of how he ended up where he is and with whom.  
> Don't worry. He still likes guys. And one girl. Deal with it.

She stepped into the kitchen behind him and he turned around. He took her backpack off her shoulder and leaned forward until their noses were about touching and said, "Shower off the pizza smell."

Blue was relieved. She sometimes wondered if she would smell like Nino's forever. 

"Right, where's your magic dream shower at?" She shoved past him, having a good idea where the bedrooms were. 

"Door, first, right," Ronan yelled as he threw himself down on the couch, flipping on one ghost light lamp in the dark room. He hadn't given much thought to what he had read in the church book because he hadn't let himself.

Ronan and Blue had to die at the exact same moment. How remained unclear. But the timing wasn't. That's what the book said, and he hadn't been able to tell her. He hadn't been able to tell anyone. Ronan Lynch was used to living with secrets. 

He heard the shower start in the other room and let his mind wander further. The book said the deaths had to happen before St. Mark's Eve. Fitting, he supposed, since that was all the time Gansey had left.

He heard Blue laugh at something and started thinking about her in the shower, naked, wet. 

He wasn't sure what happened on that driving lesson. Blue was a girl, after all. Maybe it was about the book. Maybe it was Cabeswater.

He wasn't as experienced as his friends thought. Guys had hit on him before Kavinsky, but it always seemed like an artificial alliance. Two gay boys in small-town Virginia? Somehow, that seemed to remove personal choice. Of course, they'd date. 

He'd been making himself sick with want of Adam for a year, maybe more if he were honest. But he didn't think Adam could ever feel the same. At least not until he dealt with the mountain-sized pile of baggage that came from being Robert Parrish's son.

So that left Blue. 

She wasn't like the girls who threw themselves at him. Overworked girls like Cialina who saw just his tattoo or his money and wanted to piss off their daddies or boyfriends or both and flirt with danger. 

More of Declan’s ex-girlfriends than Ronan could count thought the younger Lynch would make a good revenge fuck, but he always turned them away.

He always thought himself a little old-fashioned, wanting the feelings to go along with the physical. This with Blue wasn’t love. Or at least it wasn’t true love. His proof simply being the fact that he continued to draw a breath. 

But it was fun and interesting, and promised to be the naked kind of fun and interesting.

Maybe Blue was Ronan’s way of flirting with danger. He felt an electric jolt of a thrill when he told Gansey and Adam earlier. And he was warming up to the idea of Blue on her knees.

She walked into the room, hair wet and fresh faced, wearing her clothes from Nino’s. "I suppose you wouldn't have anything I could wear that doesn't reek of deep dish and teen angst?"

Ronan rolled more than stood from the couch and walked to the room at the end of the hall. She followed.


	19. Everyone has a butt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue reveals something surprising.

Hangers were crashing around violently in the closet of his parents’ room. Blue stayed back, feeling as if she would be trespassing to go in the room of the sainted Niall and unattainable Aurora.

"I figured there might be some of Matthew's old stuff. Not your mom's clothes."

Aurora was tall like her boys. Blue wasn't optimistic. And she felt guilty.

The noise stopped. 

Ronan emerged holding soft rose-gold gossamer dress. 

"Here."

It was too beautiful just to wear to hang out. 

"I can't wear your mom's dress."

"Ha! This is just a shirt and one that she hated. She'll never miss it when I get her back here."

Blue took the shirt with an unsteady hand, and Ronan leaned back against the door frame, arms folded, his posture a challenge for her to change right there.

She wasn't ready for that level of boldness, so she took the dress and turned around. 

“It’s just my butt. He’ll only see my butt. Everyone has a butt, right?” she thought to herself to stave off embarrassment.

She unceremoniously pulled her pizza dress over her head and worked to get Aurora's shirt off the hanger. 

Ronan was mostly silent, but she heard him inhale and exhale deeply through his nose at the sight of her naked back. She smiled to herself but didn't say anything. 

“He likes my butt,” she thought, with a small sense of victory. 

She pulled the shirt over her head and realized too late she hadn't unbuttoned enough of the delicate pearl buttons to get in on all the way.  

She tried to nonchalantly fix the problem, but the buttons were too delicate to work on blindly. She only managed to get them caught in her hair, which was quickly moving into its true natural state — big, loopy curls.

She heard Ronan laugh and push off from the door. He walked up behind her and placed his hands on her waist. "Now I know why all your clothes feature slashes."

He spun her around quickly. The delicate fabric allowed her to see the grin on his face, giving the interaction a dreamlike quality. He drew one arm out of the sleeve, then the other, laughing wryly to himself. 

Her now-free hands, seemingly of their own accord, rucked up his shirt and found purchase on on his waistband. He flinched a bit at the touch, then slouched into it. She relaxed a little with the thought, “Is Ronan Lynch, destroyer of worlds, ticklish?”

Ronan worked patiently to untangle her hair from the buttons and unfastened more than he needed to fit the shirt over her head. He removed her hands, placed them at her sides and pulled the shirt down her body, shamelessly running his hands over her chest as he went.

"I got it from here," she said as she pulled her arms through the sleeves. She turned to inspect herself in the mirror. She looked like herself and like something new at the same time. The shirt was short, but reasonable dress length for her, if she weren't forced to go commando. 

Ronan took stock of her in the now-dress, loose as it was on her. It remained mostly unbuttoned down the front, and her nipples stood out against the fabric. He had seen the back of her bra — black — and could see its outline still.

He knew he was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, but didn't care. Her hair was a beautiful wild crown. She was looking at him expectantly. He placed a hand on top of her head and said, "God, you're short," mussing her hair.

She punched him in the stomach, not angrily, and walked out of the room.


	20. And Blue was brave

After a minute he walked into the half-lit family room and saw Blue tying up her combat boots.

The now-dress was riding up her thighs, revealing a hell of a set of legs, the only part of her body Blue never minded showing. But for the low light, Ronan knew he would be seeing more. Adam had commented once in a very in-Adam-like way about her legs, and the theme had been a running joke to Noah. Ronan wasn't blind, but he usually let Noah crack wise while watching Adam and Gansey squirm at the discussion.

Ronan walked over to where she was sitting, carefully relacing the top of her boot, taking a long time on the task. She didn't look up when she finished, so he grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to look at him.

"My turn," he said.

Her eyes narrowed, considering the possibilities. He shrugged out of his jacket. The shirt came off next, and he enjoyed the look of admiration she gave him.

Then, he knelt, and her eyes went back to scrutinizing him.

He gently kissed her lips. He watched her, seeing that the action was welcome and terrifying.

She was finding herself to be bold. And she was brave, so she parted her lips as an invitation for him to do the same. He moaned quietly when she slipped her tongue softly past his lips then intensified the kiss. He moved his tongue to meet hers and her hands moved to his shoulders.

She felt so small, her little hands and petite frame. Ronan worried he would hurt her. That is, until she took her nails and scraped them down his chest.

He sucked in a breath and felt her smile without breaking the kiss.

He put his hands against her wrists and held them together in one of his hands behind her back. She tested the confinement, but didn't struggle. 

Ronan pushed the kissing deeper, running his hand roughly, strongly through her hair holding her in place while he could explore. He moved a step forward on his knees, and she widened hers to accommodate him.

He kissed her cheek and her temple, and started kissing a line down her throat. Her chest was heaving up and down with each breath and Ronan released her hands. She placed one hand over the one in her hair, drawing it toward her cheek.

She bit the leather bands at his wrist, as harshly as she had seen him do so many times.

She wet her lips and drew his thumb into her mouth, raking it along her teeth as she drew it out. He tilted his head and watched her in curiosity and wonder.

She waited a beat to move, waiting to see if he was still there with her. He nodded slightly, and she moved forward a bit, orienting him so his arm lay between her breasts. Her tongue lightly traced his index finger, before taking it in her mouth greedily.

"Fuck, Blue," Ronan said as she started on his middle finger.

She placed soft kisses on his fingertips between the words she spoke next.

"So, your turn?"


	21. The boots stay on

Ronan was a little dazed, but remembered his intentions when he first knelt down. 

Blue sensibly started to remove her boots, thinking about kneeling, but a hand stopped her, "Those stay on."

He moved his hands to her delicate ankles and traced a line up the outside of her leg, not stopping at her knee. Not stopping at her thigh, moving around and grabbing her chest, tweaking her hard nipples. She watched him curiously with her mouth slightly parted.

He slid his hands down her flat stomach and around to her hips. He pulled her forward on the couch, startling her into making a very girly sound. 

She covered her hand with her mouth and watched Ronan from her nearly prone position.

First, a delicate kiss on her left leg near the knee, then, repeating the gesture a little higher.

"My turn,” he repeated as he moved a little higher, biting her leg this time.

She laughed.

He kept kissing higher and higher, until he lifted one leg and placed it over his shoulder. Then the other. 

She felt all of her energy gather at her center. When his lips touched her the first time, she thought she might come apart at the seams. Then he used his tongue.

She involuntarily shifted her hips toward him, digging her boot into his back.

As he kept on, she started a profane tirade that impressed even him in its originality breadth.  

He kissed and licked her again and again, patiently, at times tortuously, bringing her to the brink and then backing off more times than she could care to count. 

Ronan was enthusiastic and patient. She, increasingly, was not.

Finally, she placed her hands on his shaved head and commanded him to finish. 

He felt and heard her ragged breaths and release. He kept softly kissing her, helping her  return to herself. 

She patted his head awkwardly and melted back onto the couch. He looked up at her rosy cheeks and felt a tinge of pride. He removed her boots with little fanfare and planted a kiss on her knee, then sat back. 

"So," she asked breathlessly, "when is it my turn?"


	22. The boots come off

"Soon enough."

He stood up and dragged her to her feet. She collapsed against him and rested her chin on his chest and smiled dopily.

He mirrored her smile and relished the feel of her leaning against his erection. She reached her hands toward his waistband, tracing her thumb lightly over him intentionally. 

His dopey smile became a smirk, "Not here."

He led her back to the room at the end of the hall. She paused at the threshold. 

"It's my house soon enough," and dragged her the rest of the way in. 

He sat on the timeworn quilt and walked her toward him. She couldn't help but think about how they were eye to eye, unlike Gansey who was a bit shorter. 

He kissed her and she tasted herself on his lips. He skimmed his hands up her legs and raised the dress over her head. He unhooked her bra after fumbling with it. 

She didn't feel embarrassed like she had in her fantasy. But she did feel underdressed. 

She leaned down on her knees and removed his boots, one by one, throwing them at the wall. She unbuttoned his jeans and made him stand. 

The jeans and boxer briefs came off. She looked at him for a long moment, admiring an entirely nude Ronan shamelessly. She shoved him back on the bed, knowing he let himself fall. 

She climbed on next to him, ran her finger over the tip of his hardness and said, "My turn, now? Because Jesus holy fucking Christ, I have had to put up with a lot of your fucking shit tonight."

And she was perhaps never more beautiful to him. 

"Your turn," he agreed, and put hands behind his head.

She kissed him experimentally at first, opening her mouth slightly to take just the tip in. Using his narrative from earlier and her own creativity, she put herself into her task.

When he started running one hand down his own thigh, she did the same, only raking her nails as she went. She laughed once and saw the effect the sound had, so she started moaning.

He watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, as she took him all the way in. Again. And again.

Sooner than he would have liked, a realization dawned.

"Blue," he hoarsely whispered. She didn't hear him. "Maggot!" he said, managing to get more sound out.

She pulled back. She wasn't fast enough.

She closed her eyes and thought about how prescient "all over the place" had been.

"Fuck," they said in unison, although for entirely different reasons.


	23. Gifts from Cabeswater

Blue hopped off the bed, looking for a towel or anything to wipe off her face, neck, breasts, stomach ...

"Fuck," she repeated. "I'm taking another shower."

She noticed Ronan hadn't moved except to say the one word, glassy eyes unfocused on the ceiling. She moved toward him, swiping a hand over her face;his gaze didn't change. "Ronan!"

Nothing.

"Hey, Asshole!"

His gaze sharpened and moved to her. With a gravelly voice, he managed to get out, "Like when I dream. Can't move."

"When will you be able to move? Because this, I don't like."

"Relax, Blue," he sneered, and she felt a little better that he was able to do that much. "Go shower before I take blackmail photos."

"You can't move, so I should take blackmail photos, but I'm not an asshole. As such, I'm going to go shower," she said as she strutted out of the room. This whole naked thing was getting easier.

Once he heard the water start, Ronan dared to try to move. When he unfurled the fingers of his right hand, he saw a pink switchblade.

He rolled his eyes, and wondered if Cabeswater accepted returns.

Ronan was snoring softly when Blue returned, wrapped in a towel. She quietly extracted his phone from his jeans and climbed on the bed, turning on his camera.

Standing over him, she prepared to take a pg-13 pic. He opened his eyes and flipped her off with both hands, so she kept shooting. 

He grabbed her knees and made her fall awkwardly on top of him. She flipped through the images, showing him the one that captured his soul best. 

Turning the phone around, she said, "promise you will keep this. Even after," the thought died on her lips.

Gulping deeply, Blue forced out a thought to change the subject: "You should be a model. You sneer all the time, you're difficult and, running a hand along one muscled arm, "you look like this."

"Fuck flattery. What do you want?" He sneered.

"Home, lest I get murdered without any benefit to anyone."

"Can't move."

"Jesus, still?"

"No, Dummy, someone's sitting on my chest."

"Nope. I'm definitely not the asshole," and Blue moved off Ronan and gathered up her clothes, starting to dress.


	24. Who the fuck is T.J.?

"Not complaining, but what driving lesson did you originally have planned?" Blue asked, feigning nonchalance.

"You drive back to town after something naked,” he muttered, like it was completely normal,  as he pulled up his jeans, ferreting away the switchblade.

"Your hair," he called over his shoulder, "why?"

"Why the shaved head?" she called in response.

"Touché."

In the other room, Blue's backpack slouched near the door, forgotten. Finding it unwise to question Cabeswater, Ronan decided to give her the switchblade. He unzipped the bag and found her books and her apron, and found two things that surprised him — a giant box of condoms and notes from some guy named T.J.

He pocketed the notes and, thinking about the other item, wondered if he could convince her to stay longer at the Barns, but let the wish go. It was late.

With all the shoes on the right feet and clothing mostly returned to its original state, they were ready to go, Blue behind the wheel.

She started to go through the checklist.

Ronan started tapping his hand on his knee. The checklist continued.

He had had enough.

“Who the fuck is T.J.?” 

At first, she wondered if she could die of embarrassment. Then another thought struck.

Her hands stilled. Her brow furrowed and her jaw was set.

“You cannot be serious. Jealousy? Really?” 

“Drive,” he commanded.

She put the car in gear and took off, focusing on keeping the road at night. 

Ronan let her focus for a while, then repeated the question: “Now, who the fuck is T.J.?”

“He’s annoying. And stupid. And he thinks that when I say I would rather dig out my own eyeball with a grapefruit spoon and eat it than date him that I’m just playing hard to get.”

“Dark. I like.”

Drawing the notes and his phone out of a pocket, he turned on the flashlight function. “Let’s see what little T.J. had to say.”

“Oh, God, Ronan. Really? I haven’t read them.”

“Really.”

They mocked T.J.’s tortured prose and profane drawings, which Ronan had to describe so Blue wouldn’t take her eyes off the road. 

Ronan questioned whether it was possible for anyone to learn Algebra while being so engrossed in how “rockin’ “ Blue’s “bod” is. 

“Bod? Really! Boys are the worst.”

The final note was an attempt to ask her to prom again with promises that he would get them a nice motel room for a private “after prom” party. He wondered if T.J. needed to be told to back off. Then he realized that Blue was terrifying and, once again, armed.

“Guess you two kids will have a rockin’ time at prom … “

“Fine. Ronan,” she put her hand on his thigh, “will you go to prom with me?”

He dropped his hand over hers, “Maybe. Do I have to get a motel room?”

“God, no.”

“Then the answer is yes.”


	25. Noah goes full poltergeist

Blue tried to quietly open and close the door. Then she remembered that everyone in her house knew more about what happened in the world around them than she did. Her mother’s sing-song voice drifted to her from the reading room.

“Coming, Mom.”

Maura didn’t ask her any direct questions. Instead, she read Blue’s cards and watched her face the whole time. Blue focused on one thing, hiding the book. She couldn’t hide everything and she couldn’t let her mom try to talk her out of saving Gansey.

“I'm still your mother. And I want what's best for you. So, be careful with your heart.”

Too afraid to ask questions, Blue stood to go up to her room. 

“Be careful about other things, too.”

“I will,” Blue lied and felt her conscience twist in her stomach.

She called Gansey about an hour later and he answered before the first ring was complete. 

“Gansey? Did I wake you?”

“Yes, Jane. Oh, um, no. No you didn't wake me.”

He was a little tough to hear over the sounds of things crashing and clanging in the background.  

“Sorry, I'm a tad distracted, I think Noah has gone full poltergeist on Ronan.”

She heard Ronan tell in the background, “if you touch my shit again I'll raise you from the fucking dead so I can just kill your suckass ass again.”

“Not Chain saw’s cage, you asshole!”

Gansey laughed.

“Why is it funny, exactly?”

“Because he surely deserves it, whether it's for this perceived transgression or another, and all Noah is able to do is knock things on the floor. He hasn't succeeded in breaking anything.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Ronan? I think his head will melt if it gets near a phone. Besides, he just and left for Adam’s, I would guess.”

“No.” Blue took a deep breath. Let it out. “Noah.”

Noah’s seeming omniscience wasn't something she had been thinking about earlier that night. But his coldness to her at Nino’s and similar reaction to Ronan would make sense. 

She heard Gansey ask Noah to take the phone. She heard the phone fall on the floor from being dropped. 

Quietly, she said, “Noah. Noah. Noah.”

“Don't want to talk,” he mumbled as he picked up the phone. He whined: “Why? Why? Why?”

“Noah. Stop. It's none of your business, really. But there's more than you see, OK? Can you trust me? Please?”

She heard the phone drop again. 

It was Gansey who spoke when it was picked up. “He disappeared. Now that this place is calm, what's new in your world?”


	26. Adam sees everything

If Noah couldn't see everything and was jealous, then Adam was cursed with seeing everything.

Everything. But none of it was real to him.

He wasn't sure the words to describe the fantasies he’d been having. Blue had been a regular feature when they were together, but it was always him kissing her, or the opposite, or more. Yet, again, he woke up from sexy dreams about Ronan and Blue.

Did he have a voyeur fetish? 

Maybe it was because of what Ronan had said. Adam never thought about his mercurial friend going down on a girl before and was surprised to find how much that turned him on. 

Maybe, Adam thought, he should just watch porn like other guys so he wasn't thinking about how Ronan’s tattoo moved on his back while he kissed Blue there — right there! — or what Blue would look like if she cursed a storm as she writhed under his attentions and dug her booted heels into his tat. 

The cursing alone seemed un-Blue-like.

He was hard again. He closed his eyes and saw Blue, collapsed on a couch at the Barns, her curly hair a halo around her pretty face. Adam was editing his friends’ looks. He saw it as evidence that his mind was experiencing an overload of hormones. 

He dipped his hand under the waistband of his sweats and let the rest of his fantasy play out. Apparently, he found the idea of Blue giving head to Ronan as enticing as the idea of Ronan on his knees in front of Blue.  

He felt a dirty thrill at the idea of Ronan coming all over Blue. It was a dirty enough thrill that he grabbed some tissue and came himself. 

He lay there, unmoving, afterward, wondering if this was becoming a thing.

He dropped the tissue in the trash and stayed still, half-dead. 

Until the knocking came.


	27. Ronan makes promises of "Later"

“Parrish! Stop with the beauty sleep and let me in!” 

Adam padded over to the door and opened it without a word, turning back to the bed. 

“Were you asleep? Jesus, Parrish, your grades. Think about the children.”

Adam whirled around and they were almost nose to nose. He looked up at Ronan’s eyes, then, dropped his gaze to Ronan’s mouth, and whatever insult he had been planning died on his tongue. 

He put his hand flat on Ronan’s chest, and felt his heart pounding. 

“Why are you here?”

“Noah ran me out of my own house.”

“Is that all?”

Ronan’s heart skipped a beat.

“Parrish, say what you mean.”

Adam couldn't find words, really. He felt energy coming off Ronan in waves and remembered the fantasy of a few minutes before.

He moved his head forward and, trembling, brushed his lips against Ronan’s.

Ronan felt like he was a firecracker with the fuse lit, a nuclear bomb with its target decided.

He looked at Adam hungrily and saw — he was afraid.

Ronan put his hands on either side of Adam’s face and gave him a sweet, adoring, slightly lingering kiss. Then Ronan turned on his heel and headed to the door.

“Later,” he called over his shoulder.

Adam sat awake for a while after wondering at what Ronan had meant with that one word. 


	28. Sleeping together, really

Orla opened the door to Ronan at 300 Fox Way before he knocked. 

She held a finger to his lips to silence him before he could speak. She stepped back and pointed up the stairs.

Ronan wondered if Orla was going to use him in some horrible ritual, but saw she pointed at Blue's door. He nodded and tried to sneak up the stairs, realizing little happened in secret in this house he once regarded a “castration palace.”

His mission was just a place to crash. He didn't know what to think about Adam. He didn't know what to think about Blue, or the book or Gansey and his dwindling time.

His mind was overwhelmed, and he was tired. 

He padded his fingers on the door and tried to turn the doorknob. Locked. 

He thought about going to the phone/sewing/cat room to lie down, then remembered Orla and her constant attentions.

He knocked once. Twice. He heard movement inside, and he looked around nervously.

“What, Orla?” Blue hate-whispered, clad in a robe. “Why can't I sleep? Is that so … “

Her eyes opened wider.

A tiny, strong hand seized Ronan's wrist and dragged him in the room.

“What are you doing here, Ronan?” And the name sounded instead like she was saying “Asshole.”

He laughed at the terrifying creature a half-asleep Blue was and pulled off his jacket.

“Noah kicked me out. Parrish, well, that apartment’s too small to breathe in. So, I'm here. To sleep. I'm exhausted.”

She pinched his bicep, hard.

“Ow, shit, what?!”

“Checking to see if you are a dream thing. But that didn't answer my question.”

He pinched her back, though his force and annoyance were mitigated by her fluffy pink robe.

“Goddamnit!”

Then sighing, “You're real.”

She reached past him and locked the door.

Ronan started to take up residence on the floor, punching his jacket trying to make a pillow of it.

“Just sleep on the bed. I'm too tired to, well, anything but sleep.”

She walked over to her dresser and drew out some pajamas.

She pulled on the shorts under her robe. Her robe fell and the tank went on quickly over her bare back. Ronan tried to focus on other things. He failed, more for the sake of curiosity than want.

He kicked off his boots and started to climb in the bed. She stopped him with a hand on his hip.

“You usually sleep in your jeans?” She asked.

“It's new. You sleep naked?”

She shrugged. “It's new.”

Blue unbuckled Ronan’s belt and unzipped his jeans. She drew them over his hips and let them drop to the floor. His hand on her shoulder steadied him as he kicked them off.

She laughed, and he felt self-conscious.

“What?”

“Your socks.”

Ronan had grabbed what was clean after showering at home. A pair of bright yellow argyle that his mother had bought years ago.

He laughed, too, and turned to climb into bed, settling in facing the wall.

She piled in after him and they lay there, strangely chaste, back to back.

“Ro,” Blue tried the nickname on for size. “Good night.”

“Good night, Midget. Don't hog the pillow.”


	29. Waking up

Ronan woke up the next morning to kisses from Blue. He couldn't move yet, so he just relaxed and enjoyed the attention. Then she bit him on the nose with tiny, razor sharp teeth.

His eyes snapped open, and the sun was just starting to make its presence known on the eastern horizon. He took stock of his senses and realized Blue was lying across his chest, dead weight in a heavy sleep.

Everything in the room looked grayish, and slowly something came into focus, a tiny puppy the color of the dawn sat on the pillow next to him and regarded him with curious gray-blue eyes.

The dog bounded toward Blue and started licking her cheek.

“Not sexy, Ronan,” she mumbled and swiped at her face. Her hand touched the puppy and he felt her shift to sit up.

Had he been asked even a day before, he would have sworn Blue was incapable of making the high-pitched sounds of adoration she began emitting as she started lavishing attention on the dog.

“Make it stop,” he slurred and tried to swat at her. The best he could manage was to hit her shoulder and drag down her tank top.

“You can't move, can you?”

“Told you. Dreams. After.”

“Why didn't you say you wanted a puppy? Surely I could have found you one. Though I can't imagine a cuter face than this one. Could I? No.”

She cooed, he thought. She actually fucking cooed those words.

“ _You_ have a puppy,” he said, getting more words out as his motor skills returned, but closing his eyes because she hadn't fixed her shirt. He felt her reproach. “Oh, don't give me that look. It's from, fuck, not me. I guess it's a gift from Cabeswater.”

She scratched the puppy's belly while it rolled around on Ronan’s chest. He couldn't watch.

“I love you. You are the prettiest thing I've ever seen. What are we going to call you?”

“Cock blocker.”

Blue laughed generously. “I thought you just wanted to sleep.”

“One, it’s morning. Two, growing boy. Three, did I say it’s morning?”

*****

“She,” Blue picked up the puppy and looked in her eyes, “probably needs to go outside.”

The puppy’s velvet fur and warmth as she snuggled up against Blue’s chest made her heart leap in a way she had never felt before. Then she remembered all the house’s matriarchs were out of town, and she felt a sense of anticipation and anxiety and curiosity.

Blue creeped out of her room and went to the backyard so the puppy could take care of business.

“What do we call you?” she wondered aloud.

“I could tell you,” Orla said laconically from the back stoop. “Or you could figure it out on your own.”

“Morning, Orla, cousin mine,” Blue was too enamored of the puppy to spar. She scooped up the pup and headed to the door.

Back in her room, Blue made a nest on the floor for the as-yet-unnamed dog, which quickly fell asleep.

She climbed back into bed and put her head back on Ronan’s chest. As she drifted back to sleep, it occurred to her that he was the opposite of Noah .

Ronan also slept again, instantly back in Cabeswater.

“Really? A puppy?” He asked in Latin. No answer. “What happens to the furball in a month? Did you think about that?”

He walked through the forest, mindlessly looking around. He startled awake and felt a pain instantly in his hand.

“Maggot,” he said, and Blue turned, resting her chin on her hand to look at him.

“Hmm?” she asked unhurriedly.

At the same time he grunted “Hand.”

She climbed over and reached for his wrist. She dug into his fingers and pulled them away from his latest dream thing. She grinned and held up a tiny pink leather collar with silver spikes.

The dog that would never be named “Cock blocker” and had an awesome collar and slept soundly on the floor.

He scowled.

”Can you not move?” she asked.

He gave her a look that screamed, “Obviously!”

“Are you still, ‘Did I say it's morning?’ “ she said, mimicking his time from earlier.

This look said a little more quietly, “Obviously.”

Blue moved to straddle him, seating herself right over his hardness. “Obviously,” she said aloud.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then his chin. Then his forehead.

She sat up and settled herself a little more on him. He groaned, and the sound wasn't entirely pleasant.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, wondering nervously if she had crossed some line.

Getting more control of his body back, Ronan toyed with the strings on her pj shorts. “Don't you dare.” He managed to say with much effort.

She loosed her hair from its pony and shook it out, knowing the action would move her against him.

She raised up on her knees and dragged her hand along the hem of her tank top.

“I'm a little warm, is it OK if I get more comfortable?”

She was teasing him, but she didn't want to torture him. He would repay in kind, surely.

Ronan nodded his assent.

She whipped her shirt over her head and was rewarded by a smirk. A hand rose with much effort and found its way along her rib cage the cupped her breast in his palm.

His eyes followed his hand; she focused on his gaze.

He rolled her hardening nipple between his thumb and first finger. Blue leaned back a bit, closed his eyes, relishing the attention.

“Can you not move?”

“Maybe,” she teased, cantering forward on her hips a little.

“Maybe not. You?”

“Maybe.” And he moved lightning fast to flip her on her back.

“Maybe not,” he whispered and kissed her ear.

He peppered his with sentences with kisses.

“I thought.” Kiss.

“You.” Kiss.

“Said you’d.” Kiss.

“Bring all the.” Kiss.

“Feminist fury of Fox Way.” Kiss.

“Upon us.” Kiss

“If I.” Kiss.

Kiss.

Kiss.

“Touched you.”

Kiss.

She put the thought together — she hadn't been listening very closely.

“Nobody's home. Take this off,” she pulled at his shirt, impatiently, drawing it over his head.

He pulled out of the shirt and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, moving down to her breasts, drawing her nipple between his teeth. Gently, then less so. He kissed her hard enough to leave a mark.

She accepted the attention with gratitude, but it wasn't enough. She slid down the bed, raised her hips to find him and wrapped one leg around his back to keep him closer.

He watched her with interest, then removed her leg and gently set her back on the bed.

The best she could manage was a confused look with her eyebrows.

After a heartbeat, long enough to repay her for the teasing earlier, Ronan hooked his thumbs in the top of her shorts.

He pulled them a little ways down her hips and stopped.

He met her eyes and asked with a glance, “Are you sure?”

She pushed his hands away, and he sat back, willing to accept that she wasn't ready.

In the least mixed signal ever delivered in such a situation, Blue pulled off her shorts and dropped them on the floor. She looked at him in challenge. Then to his waist and back to his eyes.

Ronan was less elegant in his efforts, hampered mostly by his haste and the absurd yellow socks.

“Socks on or off?” He asked a little nervously.

“Off. Christ, Ronan,” Blue was an impatient soul, but she was also covering her own nervousness a tad with bravado. And, remembering the Barns, she kept the tirade going until he returned to bed, as naked as the day he was born.

He kissed her hungrily and it was more a clash of teeth and longing than communication of any emotion.

“Now, Ronan.” Blue said, breathily.

“God, you're bossy.” His words were merely observation, not complaint. Then, he admitted, “I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'll be fine, you motherfucker. I'm worried about hurting you.”

The joke landed and he laughed. She took one hand and drew him down for a kiss. With the other, she grabbed him and and moved him into position.

He leaned into the embrace and she thought she was going to die. Right then. She imagined she would have the oddest obituary on the history of humankind.

She closed her eyes and felt a tear escape down her cheek.

She lost track of herself for a moment and felt not that she was in her bedroom, but rather that they were in Cabeswater on a bed of clover.

“Fuck, Blue. Are you OK?” Ronan asked, still as a statue. “Open your eyes.”

“I will be. Give me a sec.” As her eyes opened, she realized they were in fact in Cabeswater. She breathed in deep and exhaled.

Ronan started to move away, and she realized something, it didn't hurt anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and he looked at her quizzically.

“I’m OK now. Fuck me. Really.”

And so he did.

For a first time, it wasn't spectacular, except that they were in a magical forest and both showed an apparent talent and affinity for talking dirty.

Blue was a bit of a screamer.

And biter.

And scratcher.

And Ronan left his fair share of marks, too.

At one point he looked through the forest and thought he saw something, or someone. He realized it was Adam, or that Cabeswater had given him a dream Adam to see. And he met and held the dream Adam’s gaze as he moved inside Blue.

Blue bit his shoulder, and he returned his attention to her.

“You'll regret that.” He grabbed her hands and stretched them above her head and put his mental and physical focus on where their bodies met.

Blue was half struggling against his hold and half using it as leverage to meet him, thrust for thrust.

“Blue ... I'm going to … ,” he started to say, only to come before he finished the thought.

He collapsed, dead exhausted and dream paralyzed.

She kissed his temple and closed her eyes and whispered, “Next time, I'm on top. God, you’re heavy.”

She wrapped her arms around him and held him like that until the world around them resolved itself back into her bedroom.


	30. Anger and Latin

Gansey sat down in Latin class, giving Adam a fist bump and looking around.

“No offense, Adam, but you look like shit,” Gansey said carefully. “Is that World Lit homework kicking your ass, too?”

Believing the honest answer was probably an amalgam of World Lit, every other class, college essays, three jobs and a metaphysical task master in the form of Cabeswater, but he would never say so.

“Fuck Ronan Lynch,” Adam said.

Gansey did a double-take. Knowing his friends’ propensity to fight, he didn’t want to stir the flames. He tried to be Switzerland.

“I’m sure it will work out. Where is he anyhow?”

Latin was the one class Ronan never missed and even showed up for early. “You didn’t ride together?”

“As if,” Adam muttered under his breath. 

“He has five minutes. Want to bet he doesn’t make it? How about if he does, you have to edit my World Lit paper. If he doesn’t, I edit yours.”

Gansey hadn’t known Ronan sneak in before the buzzer of any class, and he knew Adam wouldn’t accept the help outright, so he went at the problem sideways.

He told Adam about how the Latin and Welsh translation was going and Adam tried to listen politely. He was mad at Ronan, after all, not Gansey.

But every time he thought about his friend, he saw Ronan and Blue on the ground in Cabeswater, Ronan looking at him with a look Adam couldn’t describe. 

He wasn’t sleeping well, and his fantasies about his supposed best friends were to blame. Three nights in a row, he had dreamed about Ronan and Blue and he felt that he should feel guilt, but he didn’t. He just wanted to go back to Cabeswater and that moment.

Fantasy Blue and Ronan seemed to be expanding their repertoire and that left Adam feeling like he didn’t have control over his own mind. First, the making out in Ronan’s car. Then the adventures at the Barns, and in the same goddamn night, he “watched” them making love, fucking, whatever in Cabeswater.

Adam never lost track of Blue’s beauty or fiery confidence. He tried to ignore the pain he felt at her rejection, and he thought he had.

But this was different. He wasn’t giving her the respect she would demand. He’d never seen her naked, but his mind filled in little details, like the warm rose-pink of her nipples and in his mind’s eye, apparently, she had a mole on the underside of her left breast and last night, she seemed to have a  hickey on her inner thigh. 

And Ronan. How many times had he seen Lynch naked? Why was it now a thing? 

Why would he give Ronan scratch marks on his chest or give thought to what Lynch looked like while having sex with Blue, or any girl for that matter.

Then, he thought, “I kissed Lynch.”

Ronan kissed him back, then left like it hadn’t mattered The kiss felt as surreal as the fantasies at this point, and Adam felt out of control.

If Gansey noticed Adam’s attention wander, he didn’t say anything. He did, however, greet Ronan as he threw himself into the desk by Adam seconds before class was to begin.

“Parrish. Gansey.” Ronan took in Gansey’s forced smile and noticed Adam wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“What? Are you two fighting again? Let me settle it: After school, cage match. Until then, shut the fuck up.”

Class began without much fanfare. Ronan noticed Adam staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Adam was a watcher, always had been, but he was actually staring.

Ronan mouthed “WHAT?” 

And Adam looked away.

Ronan had thought about how he kissed Adam, but figured he handled his friend with as much care as possible at that moment. And no matter, talking about it in the middle of class wasn't going to happen.

Adam knew it was wrong to be mad at the real Lynch for what his fantasies had been, but he couldn’t help it. The anger was visceral in a way he didn’t want to admit.


	31. Making plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, it's a bit of a space filler, but it can't be all naked all the time.

By the end of the day, Adam could not even look at Ronan. Gansey noticed, but didn’t want to say anything. Theirs was a hard fought peace. 

Besides, the two had always patched it up before. His friendships seemed to be immutable and yet always changing. Maybe these were the reasons that Helen didn’t have any friends. That or she was just too much for anyone who wasn’t a Gansey.

The plan for the night was Nino's then translating. Ronan had declared the plan lame-ass, and Adam had said he would meet them at Monmouth after his job at the trailer factory.

“What about Blue?” Adam asked, eyes moving back and forth between the two. “Does she have to work tonight? Or is she joining the two of you?”

There were barbs in his words Gansey didn’t understand. Lynch wasn’t given to caring when someone didn’t bother to say what they really meant. 


	32. Ronan stays over

At Nino’s, Gansey talked about translation, sitting next to Ronan to show him portions of text he needed help with.

Blue arrived later than usual, sitting across from them.

“Hi, Jane. You look pretty today, positively glowing. How was your day?”

She basked in the attention and leaned forward on the table to tell him her big news.

“I got a dog, Gansey! A puppy. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. I think I love her.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. Then judging it insufficient in its level of disdain, made a small gagging noise.

“Piss off, Lynch. She’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Gansey didn’t catch the tense and beamed at her. “I’m sure she is. When can we meet her?”

“I need to feed her after this. Can I bring her to Monmouth? I hated to leave her alone to come here, but Calla promised to watch her if I bring home pizza.”

“Did she look like she could wait? You may not have the little blue-eyed fucker for long,” Ronan laughed.

“How’d you know she has blue eyes?” Gansey asked.

“Don’t all dogs? Or all cute things in the world?” He smiled devilishly and batted his eyelashes.

“Really, piss off, Lynch,” Gansey laughed.

When Blue showed up at Monmouth later, she was holding a tiny ball of silver-gray fur. If the dog had blue eyes, she promised, though no one could tell because she slept most of the time, only yawning here and there and stretching to adjust her position.

Blue lay on the couch with the puppy on her belly while Gansey and Ronan hashed out some inconsequential domestic squabble over the washing machine in the kitchen/bathroom/laundry.

“Is it sleeping? You know, sleeping?” Noah’s voice materialized behind Blue before the boy did. 

“She’s not Lynch. I promise.”

Noah neared the puppy and she growled. 

“Close enough,” he said and backed away.

Blue worked on her homework while Gansey alternated between homework and translation work. When Adam showed up after working at the factory, it was almost midnight.

Ronan was on the floor with the puppy and Chainsaw when Adam walked in.

“Lynch, why'd you dream up a dog? And a tiny little one at that?”

“It's Maggot’s dog,” Ronan offered, walking up to the edge of a lie without crossing the line.

“Yeah, right,” Adam said as the tiny thing with already long legs walked over to him. 

She smelled his shoe and looked up, up, up his tall form. Then nipped at his toe and ran back to Ronan’s lap.

“She likes you, Adam,” Blue commented from the couch. “She growled at Noah.”

Adam scowled at Ronan, then at Blue, then walked to Gansey’s desk. “Did you get the lit assignment done?”

“Yes, did you?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

Adam wasn't a procrastinator but he hadn't slept well for days.

“Here are my history notes,” Gansey said extending a notebook his way.

“Thanks,” and settled on the couch to read, only making sure he hadn't missed anything in his note taking.

After a while, Blue closed her book with care to be quiet because the puppy was curled up in Ronan’s lap asleep. His head had dipped forward, and she wondered how long ago he had nodded off.

She waved her hand to get Adam’s attention. He looked up, eyebrows questioning. She pointed at Ronan.

Adam turned back to his book, shaking his head.

“What's wrong, Adam?” She intended to keep anger out of her voice, but, being Blue Sargent, did not succeed. 

“Fuck you, Sargent,” Ronan said as his head snapped up.

“Isn't that the problem?” Adam murmured, more to his book than anything. 

“Can it, Parrish,” Gansey said as he strode over, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside Blue. “Can I take you and the newest Sargent home before Ronan adopts her?”

For a beat, Blue worried the others would notice, then, calculating the time they had left, she nodded and collected the dog from Ronan’s lap.

“What are you gonna name her?” The Henrietta accent slipping into Adam’s question due to exhaustion.

Ronan answered with certainty: “Fucker.”

At the same time Blue answered with certainty: “Pepper.”

Blue repeated, “Pepper. Pepper Sargent. Get it?”

Ronan reached up and scratched behind the dogs ear absent-mindedly. “Sorry, Fucker. That's a terrible clever hippie  name.”

“I like it,” Gansey said.

Blue beamed at him. He beamed back.

Ronan looked at them with an expression Adam couldn't see, but suspected was beaming, and he felt small and inadequate and alone.

He returned to studying with this thought floating in his head: “Why doesn't anyone want me? What is wrong with me?”

Adam looked back up when the door clicked shut. Ronan was idly playing with the leather bands in his wrists and Noah had taken the seat Blue had left.

“Why don't you two kiss and make up already?” 

With the one statement Noah left.

“Fucking Casper,” Ronan hissed.

Letting himself relax a bit, Adam laughed. “I would like it if he could be a little less ghostly sometimes.

“Can I ask you something?” Adam said after a long pause.

“Why doesn't Blue want me? What is wrong with me?” That wasn't quite the entirety of the questions Adam needed to ask, but it was the question he could put words to.

Ronan turned around as he rose to his knees in front of Adam. Ronan put a hand at the back of Adam's neck and pulled him closer.

The kiss was the answer Ronan had to Adam's question. With his lips and his tongue and his hands, Ronan repeated over and over, “You are wantable. You are lovable. You, Adam Parrish, are loved.”

His intentions when he moved to kiss Adam were only to reassure him, then move on. But Adam had kissed back.

The thought was screaming in his heart, “Adam kissed me back!”

When the kiss broke, Adam lowered his gaze and asked timidly, “Why did you kiss me?”

“Got to give the people what they wasn't,” Ronan chirped acerbically. “Let me drive you home. Get the shitbox tomorrow.”

A few moments later, Adam fell into the BMW more than sat, and Ronan thought he had made the right call. The drive was short, but Adam still laid his head back in exhaustion.

When the car stopped, Adam didn't move. He was sound asleep. The thought occurred to Ronan that he could keep driving, but knew the kindness would anger Adam in the end.

“Parrish,” Ronan started quietly. His passenger slept on. He reached over and took Adam’s hand. He imagined Adam would let their fingers twine together comfortably, but that is not what happened.

Adam jerked awake and drew his whole form away violently. Ronan didn't have words for how this made him feel, so the armor went up instead.

“Wakey wakey, Runt,” resorting to a long-ago abandoned nickname, Ronan got out of the car.

Adam took stock of where he was and pieced together what had just happened. “I'm safe now. I'm safe now,” he thought in a loop. “I'm safe now.”

He picked up his bag and shoved in a few loose sheets that seemed to have fallen out and trudged up the steps to his apartment door where Ronan stood waiting.

“You staying?” Adam asked as he unlocked the door.

A shrug.

Adam walked through and motioned for Ronan to enter. Adam noticed a hint of hesitation, or nervousness, but Ronan followed, careful to give a wide berth.

“I'm beat, so I'm going to sleep now and worrying about homework in the morning.”

“Great, because I'm worrying about homework in the never.”

Adam took a shower and returned to find Ronan had fallen asleep on the floor beside his meager mattress of a bed, as he had so many times before. 

Adam climbed into bed and, at first tentatively, then committing fully, reached a hand over and threaded his fingers through Ronan’s. He slept soundly for the first time in days.


	33. More than kissing

Gansey followed Blue to the door at 300 Fox Way. She was not confusing his desire to be close to her with a false chivalry as often these days, but she insisted on opening the door for him.

This meant that the question, “You out of condoms yet?” hit Gansey’s ears and not Blue’s.

“Pardon? Condoms?” Gansey asked, genteel accent covering his shock.

“You are a horrible psychic, Orla. Who did you think was here?” Blue looked at her cousin meaningfully. 

“Sure. Whatever,” Orla answered like the words were a roller coaster with a hill in the middle. “Su-UR-re. What-EV-er.”

Blue dragged Gansey to through to the backyard before any more damage could be done. But he wasn't stupid, nor did he plan to ignore what he heard.

They stepped out into the cool night, Blue setting Pepper down and turning to face Gansey.

They were close enough for a kiss, if she stood tall and he leaned down, and Blue was grateful for once that she hadn't gotten taller than the average sixth-grader.

But Gansey leaned down, foolishly, recklessly, and whispered in her ear, “There’s more than kissing, Blue.”

And her stomach dropped and she tried to play it cool, because she had learned that very lesson over the week, there is more than kissing. 

She had spent so many years living in a world of less than kissing that she viewed it as the gate she couldn't look at the situation from any other direction. And along came Gansey and less than kissing felt like purgatory.

But he was used to an alternate view of the world. And God, he was cute. And she loved him.

However ...

“What?” was all she managed to say. It was more of a fuzzy “whah?” 

He laughed. 

She sighed.

And he doubled down. “Do you trust me?”

“I don't want to … um, hurt you.” It wasn't the right time to say the K word. After a beat the thought reached her that she had been the one to hear those words earlier.

He smiled. 

He sighed.

“What do you have in mind?” The question felt dangerous. The night felt dangerous. 

Pepper climbed onto her feet and whined, bringing her back to sensible reality.

She picked up Pepper and held her to Gansey’s face. “She’ll kiss you.”

He leaned into the puppy’s face and puckered up, knowing Blue would appreciate the silliness.

And Pepper leaned toward his face and sunk her tiny teeth into his perfect patrician nose.

“Christ,” he said.

Blue gathered the puppy back and turned around. “I'm sorry, Gansey. At least she didn't growl at you.”

He stepped forward and slid his hands around her waist. 

“I would say I wish we could stay like this forever,” Gansey started to say as he began to slip one hand under the hem of her sweater. “But I might be lying.”

He spread his long fingers out over stomach. He was slowly moving his hand upward.

“But Gansey,” Blue said, “Pepper’s tired.”

She felt him hang his head.

“Maybe we should take her up to my room.”

Blue nearly dropped Pepper when Gansey grabbed her hand and dragged her into the house.

Blue saw Orla’s eyebrow raise as they walked past. And she heard her cousin’s laugh as they started up the stairs.


End file.
